Harry grunts. "Given me food fer thought, at the very least. Ain't sure I'm cut out t' lead, but s'pose I can protect. Dark times ahead, folk might need that." She also plots, her face impassive. May need t' steal these damn wands if I'm t' get back to 1966. But will it be the right 1966? Does what I do here create a new, parallel time?

"Certainly, certainly!"
This message was last updated by the player at 17:56, Mon 11 Oct 2021.

Harry pumps the young Collins' hand in parting. "Interestin' evenin', t' be sure. Have t' do it again soon."  Stepping to the door, she gathers up her musket, pistols, powder horn, and lantern. "Stayin' here overnight, or walkin' back t' Collinwood? Got a lantern if th' latter, I presume. If not, I can walk with ye."

"I have a lantern..." At the door, a wolf howl can be heard in the far distance (but not so far that it's out of earshot). "...Why don't we walk back toward Collinwood together...?"

Harry dons the baldric with her pistols and powder horn  and slings her musket over her shoulder. "Works fer me. Fog's in by now, like as not, and two are less likely t' stray than one." The pistols are loaded but the musket is not.

Nothing unusual happens on the way to Collinwood, save that the wolf's howl is heard once more. It sounds like it's to the south... Still not very near, though...

There are still quite a few lights on inside Collinwood.

"So... shall we part ways...? Should I arrange for you to borrow a carriage... or a horse...?"

Harry shakes her head. "South track through th' woods is faster. Prefer t' walk anyway. Thank ye fer th' offer, though." She parts ways with Daniel and sets off down the familiar southern woodland track toward town.

...Adam hears someone coming.

...They're on foot... coming from Collinwood... headed toward town.

...Sounds like just one person...

Holding his shovel like a spear he waited until the other person was within sight and throw it across the road into a tree. The point is that the long handle should make a bar, more physical than mental. He will then step out into the road where the other person can see him.

Harry halts as the shovel embeds itself in the tree just ahead of her. Hooking her lantern on the shoulder strap of her musket, she draws one of her pistols. She glares at the large, shadowy figure barring her passage and spits to one side. "Nice throw. Arm like that, ye should be hurlin' harpoons on a whalin' ship."

Adam moved to his shovel, speaking to her inconsequentially. "You are not Cyrus Collins. I have no fight with you. You may leave." He is not shy about being in the lantern light, but he isn't jumping into it either. If she wanted a better look at the Monster he would not stop her. "I do not like boats," he said in a matter of fact way. "I get sea sick easily. Or I did..." Pulling his shovel from the tree he began moving back to his former spot.

Harry is not sure what to make of the hulking figure before her. "Yer all kinds of messed up, ain't ye," she remarks somewhat rudely. "Catch a faceful of grapeshot durin' th' war?" She keeps her pistol at the ready, albeit uncocked. "Cyrus Collins, hm? Never heard of him. What's he to ye?"

---

15:00, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 14 using 1d20.  Teratology (Check Vs. INT+1). — Missed by 1.

Adam does not turn back to her, but does continue the conversation. "I did not participate in the war. I was otherwise occupied."

Finally back at his post he turned to face her. "You must not even be a Collins. Cyrus did this to me, and I aim to return the favor."

"Can't fault a person who wants revenge for wrongs done'em by a Collins," Harry replies with a grunt. "Th' whole lot... 'cept maybe th' young-uns... would toss just 'bout anyone under a cart if it suited them." She slowly returns the pistol to her baldric. "Happy huntin'. Ain't no Cyrus hereabouts, though. Maybe ask at Collinwood."

Adam clenched his jaw. He hated himself for needing it, but without help he had no hope of surviving. Thus he is forced to ask, "Most people run from me. You are not soft headed so you must be uncommonly brave. Since you do not fear speaking with me...I wish to ask your aid. I have nowhere to go. I can pay for food and lodging but...I am a monster. No one will have me. At this point I would live in stables if they were warm and dry. I only ask because as I said this is the first real conversation I've had in some time."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:07, Tue 19 Oct 2021.

Harry snorts. "Brave? More like bull-headed and just plain ornery. Truth is, we're all monsters in our way." She considers the man for a long moment. "Know a lot of places hereabouts where even a fella yer size could hide," she eventually states, "but few are warm or dry, and most are neither. Sea caves and fishin' shanties in need of repair. And a hidden chamber in the Collins mausoleum where folk have been known t' shelter."

Adam sighed. "None of those sound better than where I am now." There is a weighty sadness in his voice. "Thank you, for talking to me."

Harry shrugs. "I get a line on somewhere warm and dry, I'll let ye know. Will leave a note in th' notch yer shovel made in this here tree, assumin' ye can read. If not, I'll just keep an eye out fer ye. I'm Harry, by the way. Harry MacLeod." She adds a note of caution. "Folk are a mite jumpy at th' moment. Recent death in th' Collins family, and a few people missin'. I'd steer clear of most folk, I were ye."

Adam replied without malice or exasperation, "Yes, Ms. MacLeod, I can read and write as well.  I am Adam DeLacey, and I am in your debt." There was a rumble of laughter, "I threw a rock through one of the front windows to get their attention. They allowed me to leave without firing on me."

He stroked his chin, "They mentioned disappearances, can you tell me more?"

Harry replies in a low voice. "Folk hereabouts think I'm a man, seein' as I dress and have worked as a sailor. Prefer t' keep it that way, leaves me my freedom, so keep that 'Ms.' stuff t' yerself. Harry will do." She then outlines what passes for current affairs as she understands them. "Town's new doctor, a visiting scholar, a recently-deputized lawman, a local woman's sister, and a recently-arrived vagabond all went missing on or shortly after th' night of Abigail Collins' death. Miss Abigail's heart gave out after some creature seekin' shelter from th' storm that night frightened her." She gestures vaguely. "Based on th' description, was either a monkey or an imp from Hell. Ain't good t' get th' locals riled up more than necessary, so we're callin' it a monkey fer th' time bein'. Lastly got us an escaped criminal at large, attacked th' local woman whose sister is among th' missin'. Busy month."

Adam listen, keeping his strange eyes on the woman who was disguised as a man. He was thoughtful for several breaths before speaking. "Is there some way I might be of assistance?"

Harry considers the man's offer for a time. "Hrm, good question. Only just learnt where a pair of our missin' folk might've gone. Planned t' look int' that come daylight, old mansion formerly owned by 'nother well-heeled family what fell on hard times." She points to the southwest. "Crossroads at th' base of th' hill where th' road from town meets th' road from Collinwood. Continues inland, south and west. Meet me there just after first light and we can go explorin'. Will bring as much food and drink as I can carry."

Adam nodded and reached into his pocket. He took five pence out and held it out for her. "Here, use this to buy my share." He then moved out onto the road and began walking in the direction she wanted. When he found the spot he looked around for trees or underbrush he could hide in.

Harry pockets the coins, continues into town, and purchases what she hopes is an adequate amount of food and drink suitable for two on a daylong excursion. She then retires for the night, and rises when the church bells ring Lauds. She acquires some fresh meat from Widow Morgan's larder, leaves some coin along with a note, and sets off for the crossroad.

OOC: Shall we commence a Chapter Eight, this being a good transition point?